Dirty Diana by January James
Chapter Thirty
“She deserved the standing ovation, and some,” Jude said to my mum who was sitting on the couch clearly in awe of my boyfriend as he recounted the night of the award ceremony.
My heart had swelled to twice its size, not only since my mum had landed at JFK, but since she had entered the same room as my soulmate, and I had the two most important people in my life, together in the same room.
“It wasn’t for me,” I corrected. “It was for you too, and the team, the acts—everyone. The industry even!”
“Has she always been like this?” Jude frowned at my mum. “Never able to take a compliment?”
Mum laughed, heartily. “Most of the time, yes. But she had her moments when she was very young.”
“Go on,” Jude probed, winking at me. “I want to know everything, including all the embarrassing bits.
I rolled my eyes and stood to refill everyone’s coffees. I secretly wanted to hear the stories my mum used to tell about me growing up. I hadn’t heard them for too long, and I’d blocked them out after Aaron appeared; it hurt too much to think of the good times.
Jude was right about the standing ovation, though. We arrived at the awards late, of course, gushing our apologies to a team unaware of the real reason why. I spent most of the evening with Cherry, Ayda and Jilted, who we’d signed since Madison, being regaled by stories of their lives on the road.
“We really feel as though we part of a giant juggernaut,” Ayda said, beaming at me. “It’s incredible—such a privilege.”
“Yeah,” Cherry added. “It’s a good thing I’m single again. I don’t have time for a boyfriend anymore; I’ve never been busier. But I love it, I really do.”
“I’m so pleased,” I said, squeezing her hand. “How’s the insomnia?” I raised an eye brow and she grinned.
“It’s a lot better now. It wasn’t so bad to begin with but… I think you probably knew that.”
“We’ve come a long way, you and I,” I said, pulling her into a hug.
“And I hope it continues,” she replied as I released her. “I really do. This is my family. You are my family.”
We turned our attention to the final award, which was usually Label of the Year, genuinely curious to know whether Weissenberg’s Blue Hill would win for the fourth year in a row. I felt Jude’s hand smooth gently over my knee, carefully avoiding the bandage that tightly bound the wound in my thigh.
We all watched the host begin his spiel about all the great music that had been released that year, all the great acts that had been signed, but then his speech took a direction none of us were expecting.
“We won’t be awarding a Label of the Year in this ceremony tonight. Our panel believes there has been too much controversy surrounding the management and control of record labels in this country in the last few months, and want to take some time out to reconsider the criteria against which the winning entrants are judged.”
A collective gasp reverberated around the grand hall, and Jude squeezed my knee. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, though; my eyes were glued to the host on the stage.
“Instead, we have created a Special Recognition Award, a one-time acknowledgement of someone who has turned the tide of the industry; who has shone a light on the need for diversity and authenticity of voice; who has birthed and nurtured a spirit in the far corners of the alternative music landscape, bringing it to the attention of the music-buying masses.
Jude’s hand squeezed tighter, but I still couldn’t look away, and my breath was stuck in the hollow of my throat.
“This is someone who didn’t shy away from the threat of social media. Instead, she leaned into it. This is someone who didn’t see unsigned talent as a waste of time; instead she embraced them for what they are—raw, talented musicians, unmolded by commercial interests and still fighting for their principles and beliefs, fairness and social justice. This is someone who didn’t back down from the threats to close her small independent label; instead she fought tooth and nail, against the biggest names in our industry, and emerged victorious with a cooperative label that is now blazing a trail.”
I didn’t dare breathe and could feel my head growing lighter as a consequence.
“This year’s one-time Special Recognition Award goes to…”
I didn’t even hear the name of the person he announced. No-one did. In fact, I couldn’t even see the guy anymore. Arms were flying in my direction, hugging me, kissing me, high-fiving me, attempting to pick me up and spin me around.
Amidst it all, I felt his presence. A thick arm curling around me, chaperoning me through the hysterical audience. Hands were pounding on tables, feet were stamping on floors, voices were yelling out their congratulations. And all I knew was Jude had me. He kept everyone at a distance so they wouldn’t press on my bruises or suffocate me after my ordeal. He did all the thanking and the smiling, which was helpful seeing as I was too shocked to speak.
Jude tried to let me go, to walk the steps to the stage on my own, but I held his hand fast. I wasn’t doing this without him. Reluctantly, he guided me up the stairs towards the host who was beaming from ear-to-ear, brandishing what looked like an enormously heavy brass statue.
With his free hand, the host pulled me to the center of the stage and placed me in front of the microphone. I sensed a boom mic overhead and a film crew zoning in on my face. I turned to see Jude but he’d stepped back, out of shot, telling me in no uncertain terms this was my moment, not his.
The rest of the evening was a complete blur. I don’t even remember what I said in my speech, although Carlos and Sheridan had since both relayed snippets—Sheridan gushing about how I couldn’t thank everyone fast enough, and Carlos whining about how his name wasn’t the first to roll off my tongue. I remembered being approached by pretty much every person who worked in the industry, even close rivals and people who’d refused us opportunities after Hoffman tried to do his worst. And I remembered that throughout it all, Jude never left my side.
When we finally came home, he steered me away from the room that was now cordoned off with police tape, into his own, and sat me down while he recalled every single compliment and congratulations, in wonder. And when I chastised him for not taking due credit for the achievement, he held my face and sternly told me it was my success, and mine alone. No-one could have or would have gone to the lengths I did, or had the ideas I had. Yes, I had a great team behind me who followed my lead. But the success was all mine and I should shut the fuck up and enjoy it.
I wasn’t really listening. I was watching the ripple of his muscles beneath his shirt as he paced the room recalling every little thing with the sexiest smile on his face. I was stroking my gaze up and down his form as it moved around drawing the light with it. I was gripping my thighs together tightly, ignoring the burning sensation around my wound, knowing that if I didn’t do something soon, I would explode from sheer lust.
He paced and talked non-stop for an hour. Only when I walked over to him, pulled his pants over his hips and took him in my mouth, did he finally give it up.
* * *
I listened,laughing, as Mum recounted a story about when I asked the entire front row at my school performance if they’d liked the show. “There was a time when she craved the attention,” Mum said. “It was hilarious to watch.”
“I wish I’d been there,” Jude grinned.
Mum shook her head, smiling. “Kids change so much as they grow up. Things happen, things affect them, and before you know it, they’re adults and they’re out of your hands.” She looked at me with melancholy in her eyes, prompting me to wrap my arms around her for the fiftieth time since she’d arrived.
“I don’t ever want to be out of your hands, Mum,” I muttered into her hair.
“Well…” Jude interrupted. “I was hoping, actually, Mrs. Delaney…”
Both Mum and I twisted to face him. He suddenly looked nervous and was standing over us both, rocking from foot-to-foot.
“That you might be ok with me taking her off your hands completely?”
I squinted at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, if you stand up, I’ll tell you,” he said, impatiently.
I did as he asked, feeling my mum’s hand clasped around my own giving it a squeeze.
Without warning, Jude dropped to one knee.
I flung a hand across my mouth and he bent around me to face my mum.
“Is that a yes? It’s kind of urgent.”
Mum hiccupped a sob. “Yes! Have her.”
“In that case,” he returned to me, his eyes glistening. “Diana Delaney, you infuriatingly stubborn, insanely talented, stunningly beautiful woman… You have a lot to answer for; I thought I was happy until I met you. Well, not happy as such, but I thought I had life sussed. Then you came along and turned everything upside down. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be a board member of a sexy, edgy club; I didn’t want to be the CEO of one of the world’s biggest record labels; I didn’t want to be an inactive bachelor-about-town anymore. I wanted to be a boyfriend; I wanted to sit on the bed and cuddle and watch Netflix; I wanted to be sitting with the cool kids listening to rock music instead of discussing employment contracts with a bunch of businessmen. I wanted to make the mad jump from a successful career to co-leading a label everyone wanted to have shut down.”
He watched me as the tears rolled down my face, and his voice quietened.
“I wanted to tell you about my past; I wanted to talk to you about my father and the grief and regret I live with every day. I wanted to share with you the pain I feel whenever I think about the words my mother said to me. All things I never knew I wanted until I met you.”
“I love you,” I mouthed silently.
“But one of those things,” he continued. “I don’t want anymore.”
I moved my hand from my mouth down to my chest, trying to still my heart.
“I don’t want to be a boyfriend anymore.”
He tucked a hand into his pants and pulled out a small box.
“I’m sorry I haven’t taken you anywhere special to do this. I wanted your mum to be a part of it and she’s only here for a few days…”
I stared, wide-eyed, at the giant diamond blinking up at me from the open box.
“I want to be your husband, Diana. Will you marry me?”
I collapsed onto my knees and took his face in my hands, peppering it with kisses.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” I whispered, each time my lips parted from his skin.
I heard my mum sobbing behind me, and I reached out to take her hand while pulling Jude into my neck. I had never been happier. I had everything I’d ever wanted, and right then I wanted nothing more than what was right there, in that room.